


Keep Yourself on the Shelf

by EnEss_Caity



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Elliott is a sex worker, Ex Boyfriend, I am warning you now, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Work, Smut to angst, makoa is a giver, old flame, this is not a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnEss_Caity/pseuds/EnEss_Caity
Summary: Elliott entertains his favorite client. Makoa returns the favor, despite his invisible demons.
Relationships: Makoa Gibraltar/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Keep Yourself on the Shelf

**Author's Note:**

> (AU set before Mirage was Mirage, and after Gibraltar has won his Legend status. Elliott is a sex worker on the side and doesn’t realize who his best customer is)

Elliott stood on his toes behind his bar, elbows on the dark wooden countertop. He had shuttered the doors hours ago. Right then, it was just him. And him. His perfect copy. It had his exact face, which was currently buried between his roughly spread cheeks, licking his pleading hole top to bottom. The noises he made, or rather he was trying not to make, were utterly embarrassing.

But he took it all in stride because… well. The customer is always right. And who was the customer? That gentle giant regular who always managed to pop in on the Paradise Lounge on the slow nights, when the owner was especially horny and lonely and needing extra cash. What was his first name again? Matt? Makoa? Yeah, Makoa! 

Tall, broad, handsome, sweet. He was a regular at the bar for a while before he was a regular client. And there he sat, at his usual bartop, just a few feet away from the custom performance.

He was so hot, Elliott could barely keep himself together. They’d catch eyes, whenever Elliott’s confidence caught back up with himself. Only to see another copy of himself absolutely worshipping the man's lap. Still entirely clothed, but visibly outgrowing his pants, Makoa took a sip of the cold drink he’d ordered for the show, in a well-paced and honestly sexy way. His lip pursed around the rim of the glass. His eyes sparkled with… what was it? It was almost too soft for pure lust, maybe admiration was more accurate. But the thought of being admired by him made Elliott’s head swim, and his stomach tighten.

“Mr. Witt?” He asked low and calm. 

“Yeah?” All three copies answered, causing Makoa to be temporarily confused, then to chuckle. 

“What… would you charge for…” he set his glass down to his side, and scratched at the back of his head, “ ‘all the way’?”

Elliott thought of his bills, his debts- really he tried. He had also thought about how he’d happily be the one to pay anything for an honest-to-goodness fuck by this particular client. While his mind went to war over these thoughts, the decoy at Makoa’s lap thankfully fielded the question, “2,000 credits, Mr. G.” 

The real Elliott thought how steep that price was, it was enough to cover the entire rest of his month. Charging that to one client seemed rude, even if he was the one to set the price. Truth be told, he was regretting not being the one to speak up before his decoy and bring it lower but then-

“Sent.” The man said softly, looking up from his phone. Seconds later, Elliott’s own phone buzzed from its concealed spot behind the bar. The payment statement burned brightly from the display. 

“Oh!” Elliott attempted to keep composure. He let his obvious smile show. And maybe he gripped the counter a little too tight to flex his arms. “Well, consider that ‘no touching’ rule null and void!” He dipped under the bar exit and closed in on the man on the seat. More accurately all three of him closed in on Makoa. But… 

It seems silly but the way that he held his gaze to the  _ only _ real Elliott, it made him blush. He’d realized he’d only been wearing his tank top, crudely pulled high above his pecs, and his jeans long abandoned. He was hard, and exposed- it would have made him a little shy if not for the very warm gaze of this particular client. 

“Where do you want me? And h-how?” Elliott asked, hands on his hips, a deep flush making its way across his cheeks and chest. 

Elliott watched as his client too blushed bright red under dark tan skin. He fidgeted. He smiled nervously. “Well. Now I… I’m out of my element, brah.” 

“Wait are you a v…” Elliott stalled and froze. Again, two voices in his head doing battle, one of which was the ugly possessive side of him aching to claim Makoa first.  _ Stop being fucking gross I’m begging- _

“No, no. Just… I was in a… with someone for a long time. Not anymore tho.” He gestured largely with his hands, nerves becoming more apparent each word into this explanation. “I’m used to… boring… stuff” 

“Boring?” The trickster raised an eyebrow, “you don’t seem  _ capable _ of ‘boring’ sex.” Elliott finally allowed himself to get within touching distance, and he reached out to hold the man’s jaw. Chiseled and wide. He tilted Makoa’s face upwards. “Whoever they were, they’re dumb.” his copy blurted out. “You’re way too hot to be taken for granted.” A decoy said to his right. 

Makoa made himself dizzy looking between all of the men before him, and smiled a half hearted smile. “I think three of you might be too… distracting.” He dragged a palm down his length, now obvious through his pants. “Can I just have you?” He raised an eyebrow to Elliott. 

“Yes.” He said dumbfounded. That was a wake up call to Elliott’s one rational braincell; ‘ _ you officially have feelings, abort! _ ’ It screamed. 

The decoys bid their farewells, one waved while the other pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Go away.” Elliott said through grit teeth. They faded, and Makoa was smiling and blushing and looking up to him so so sweetly. 

“Would you like me to…” Elliott stumbled through the end of that sentence when Makoa’s hands found his hips. “Uh. Um ahaha. Hahah- uhh” he laughed as he was being pulled down to the empty lap. Elliot obediently straddled the man. 

“What were you saying?” Makoa spoke up after a harsh swallow. He placed his forehead against Elliott’s and waited there.

“Just seeing if you wanted me to take charge.” He said while his voice cracked. “Y’know be all… y’know aggressive. Decisive…?” He reminded himself that kissing is not part of the deal. Even as he circled Makoas lips. They looked so plush. Maybe a small taste… 

No. He resisted, barely. 

“Yes.” Makoa answered… but the bartender had no recollection of the question he had just asked. 

It flooded back to him after he felt Makoa through his pants. “It- ah. It’s not like we have to flip to the 200th page of the Kama Sutra, y’know?” He began a lapdance, almost a signature at this point in their business. He slid his hips forward and back lightly. “We could just find any old surface, barely wrinkle the sheets. And I promise I’d still have a ball.”

The way his words alone were working the man up had Elliots heart pounding. “You top, don’t ya?” He asked innocently enough. It was need-to-know info, but the wide eyes of Makoa made it seem like it was top secret. “I-I-I’m good either way, man!  _ Really _ !”, he comforted in a rushed way that he hoped didn’t sound desperate.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to… talk about it.” He laughed at himself, and visibly untensed his shoulders. His broad, strong shoulders. Elliott went with that single train of thought and started to rub his muscles. He was even more tight than he had imagined, that damned no touching rule could go to hell for all Elliott cared. He worked his thumbs in circles, and soon he felt the man relaxing into his touch. And god, he was handsome when he was relaxed. Makoa breathed out some humming noises that were praise enough for Elliott, he continued. He watched as the skin beneath his grip rolled with his applied pressure, before long the edges of his tattoos raised from the attention, outlined with the neon backlight of the bar. Elliott was content watching the goosebumps crawling across his skin. He leaned down to mouth from one shoulder to the other, using his collarbones as a bridge of sorts. Reminding himself that they were  _ not _ kisses. 

“Elliott…” his voice had grown husky in the silence, and his hands were aching for movement. He looked as if he was being tortured.

“Waiting on your direction, Big Guy.” Elliott stood from his lap to stand bent at the waist between Makoa’s spread knees. “If you want me to take the reins, I can. If you want to tell me every little thing you want me to do for you, I can” He was being purposely inconsiderate to get those little whimpers out of him. Makoa was so well behaved it was almost hard to believe. Even when Elliott was simply hired to be a spectacle, Makoa was one of the most respectful clients he’d had. At this point in time, Even Elliott was unsure if he wanted to test the man’s patience or to get him to break. 

“Elliott!” The results were in. Makoa grabbed the bartender by the hips, and opened wide for him. His moans bubbled out of his throat feeling how easily and eagerly his client swallowed around him. 

“Mr- AHh~! Mr Gi-br-“ Elliott placed his hands on the sides of Makoa’s head while he debated to use his grip to fuck into him or to pull away. Before he had the chance, though, Makoa used his impressive strength to wrap arms around Elliott’s hips, forcing as much as he could down his own throat. When he let go, Elliott staggered back slightly, “Mr. Gibraltar-“ 

“Sorry I … should have asked you.” Makoa whispered, his eyes closed. 

“No you shouldn’t have.” Elliott’s knees buckled as he broke his own rule.

Their first kiss was an explosion, Makoa nearly cupped his entire face with that hot palm of his. Elliott threaded his fingers so roughly into Makoa’s hair that it came undone from its bun. The chair underneath them creaked as Elliott landed back in Makoa’s lap. They didn’t part until they both needed to breathe. 

“Mr. Witt.” Makoa begged, Elliott blushed hard at his formal title “I want to make you feel good.” 

“Oh~ well, Mr. Gibraltar-“ he tried to flirt, to accept, to say  _ something _ but, he failed to make anything other than a pathetic needy noise once his cock was wrapped up in Makoa’s rough grip. The saliva proved to be lubricant enough as he was pumped so perfectly. Elliott didn’t need to perform at all , each moan was genuine and well earned. He gasped out, further pushing himself into the fist, gripping Makoa’s hair as he pressed his lips to his ear

He was stuck in a falsetto whimper, “Fuck! M-Mr. Gi-” 

“Please call me Makoa?” He said in a calm and rumbling voice. 

“Yes! Yes Makoa! Please!”

“Please what?” Had his voice always been gruff and sexy? 

“Please let me - don’t stop ohhh ffffuuu~” Elliott nearly screamed this, but absolutely no shame followed, not while Makoa kissed him through his climax. He bucked and begged and felt wholeheartedly satisfied. 

“Elliott, could we-” Makoa tried to shake the heat from his brain. 

“I live upstairs.” Elliott breathed into the corner of his mouth.

—

As they entered the door to the apartment, Makoa sheepishly trailed behind Elliott, gripping his hand tightly. He looked over the modest place, half consisting of untouched moving boxes and the other of cheap furniture. Elliott pushed his broad frame backwards until it hit the wall. He stood on tip toes and brought his lips to Makoa’s. Then he pulled back, furrowing his brow. 

Elliott spoke with closed eyes, “y-yknow what… I can’t do this.” Makoa became nauseated at the statement, at the way he said it, at how the man leaned away and pulled out his phone. He was probably ordering a car to come take this pathetic overreaching client away. 

Then his phone buzzed.

The statement said he’d been refunded in full.

“I hereby fire you as my client.” Elliott said curtly. Makoa’s heart stopped. How has he ruined this already? He looked down at Elliott, who then… beamed up at him? “Great now that That’s out of the way…” Elliott brought their lips together soft and needy, he took over his mouth with his tongue. He pressed himself against the larger man near incessantly. Makoa’s cock was still hard against his thigh. It twitched with the attention it was given and Elliott was happy to make up for lost time. He rubbed him through his trousers. “Now that we’re uh no longer ‘in business’ together, what do you want me to do to you, baby?”

“You… weren’t trying to get rid of me?” He breathed a sigh of relief, and a chuckle spilled out too. 

“God, no!” Elliott squared their faces and looks very sternly at the man in front of him, “Didn’t feel right to take your money anymore. I’ve wanted to do this since I met you.” 

He undid the button and fly of Makoa’s pants in a flash. He knelt down and pulled Makoa free of his clothing with the rough hunger of some starving creature. “Oh wow… I had  _ some _ idea but…. fuck… Makoa.” The length bounced in front of his face, he pressed his entire face to the shaft, licking, kissing, panting. When was the last time he’d gotten this undone from giving head? Hell, he didn’t even have him in his mouth yet. He opened wide, and winked upwards, “I just know you're gonna be trouble.”

And he took him in. The blessed lack of gag reflex only helped him so much though. His mouth was wide, jaw aching, and still he worked hard. As long as Makoa would moan above him, he had strength. The man above gently stroked his hair, and softly pleaded for mercy. When Elliott heeded his words, he pulled off with just a few licks to the head. He rocked back on his haunches, and looked up to Makoa. 

He had his hand clasped over his mouth, looking pleadingly downwards, he spoke in a thunderous low tone. “I meant it earlier, Elliott.” He cupped his jaw and brought him back up to full height. “ _ I _ want to make  _ you _ feel good.” He wrapped Elliott’s upper body in an embrace while he littered his neck in kisses, and bites, and licks, and hickies. Elliott was hard again by the time Makoa pulled away, utterly flushed and giggling like an innocent and inexperienced fool. He kissed Makoa with a huge smile. He was blissed out already.

Elliott took him by the hand and led him to the only room without a thousand boxes piled up: his bedroom. It was set up perfectly and then Makoa saw why. The camera and lighting equipment set aside in a corner, pointed right at the large bed. Makoa reasoned out that doing shows for an in person audience only covered so much cash, Elliott played in front of the camera for others.

Elliott saw him watching the corner, and chuckled under his breath. Positive that he knew what was going through his head; “cameras not on, I promise.” The Legend paused, raising his eyebrow, “What if it was?”

Until that moment, Elliott didn’t think Makoa was capable of a ‘devilish grin’ and yet? It suited him. He gasped playfully, “Mr G!” Elliott pushed him backwards until his knees hit the bed, then further. Makoa was splayed on the mattress smiling wide, eyes blown with lust. Elliott straddled him, finally able to have something to rub on. “If it’s all the same, let’s not tape this.” Elliott said as he took his hand to both himself and Makoa. “It’s not too crazy-exciting for me anymore, that’s all just for cash.” He let their cocks go, and began to peel off Makoa’s tank top up and over his head. He left the fabric in a tangle around Makoa’s elbows, raised well above his head. Elliott found himself staring at the tattoos, he’d never seen them in full. They seemed to outline the muscles they adorned, geometric shapes encircling his pecs in beautifully textured black, bleeding to his shoulders and tracing his arms, his shoulder blades. 

“These are beautiful.” He said breathless. Makoa’s arms were still raised up, he shifted uncomfortably- probably from the compliment. Elliott thought it was best to not dwell on them anymore. At least out loud. He fell into Makoa’s kiss then, wanting to continue the fun.

“I know you said you meant it but do you really? I can take the lead?” Elliott said, already moving his hard length against Makoas, dragging his body forwards and back; he huffed at the feeling and wanted more but backed out once he’d failed to get a response from the man under him. “Uh hey, y… you okay, man?” 

“Yeah. Yeah!” Makoa answered, his brows pulled up in a sympathetic way. “Sorry I’m not all here… let me, uh…” he trailed off. Then his hands were on Elliott’s sides, throwing him easily to the side. Makoa stood up, properly undressed and kneeled back on the bed. He moved Elliott again, picked him up and pushed him up the mattress rough and purposeful. 

“Fuck Makoa!” Elliott squealed when Makoa kneeled and placed the backs of Elliott’s knees on his shoulders. The Legends tongue found his length, then his balls, then the strip of hot tight skin leading to his hole. Makoa expertly teased him, and Elliott melted in the exchange; moaning out half phrases and incomplete petnames. “You’re making me f- ah! Bb-baby- Im feeling good, li-just like you wa-ahhh~nted fuck fuck fu-“ he barely touched himself and yet, his cock was dribbling. His legs were shaking. He gripped Makoa’s hair. And rode Makoa’s tongue just a little bit before tearing himself away. “You- you weren’t kidding. Shit.” He tried to catch his breath and placed a hand at the base of his cock to squeeze. “You really do want me to feel good haha.. ha” Elliott was dazed with trying not to spill… again. He thought of how Makoa hadn’t even begun to get his fair shake, maybe he was waiting, maybe he was getting enough just like this. That’s not a chance Elliott would take though, “want me to-“

Makoa shook his head before the question was finished. “I’ll ask you when I’m ready.” He laughed, it rumbled the dark room. “How many more times can you go, you think?” Makoa asked as he licked up the shaft, even though Elliott’s fingers still curled around it. He licked those too. 

“My record was… three times on s-stream- ah!” He was swallowed up then. “Your fucking mouth is a weapon fuck fuckfuck” 

Makoa only hummed, only swallowed and only bobbed his head. He stayed until the back of this throat was painted with Elliott shouting curses from deep in his trembling chest. He didn’t want Elliott to move yet so he just held him there, against the roof of his mouth, drooling down him. Elliott begged for mercy, claiming oversensitivity. Makoa only pulled off to call him a wimp. He took his soft dick back into his mouth and reached up for play with Elliott’s nipples. The bartender knitted his hands behind his head and did a sort of sit-up at the feeling. He obviously liked it, the way he began to fill out again along Makoa’s tongue. He took it easy on Elliott for a moment, pulling off to lay his head on Elliott’s inner thigh and to sing him praises. 

This was the Makoa he’s fantasized about. Well… except for the fact he wasn’t taking him. He wanted to. He even started to ask for that- until he was interrupted by his own moans. The pinches to his nipples had become more teasing, he felt a tingling static travel to his cock. He wanted to try to ask for more mercy but Makoa wasn’t moving, except for on his chest. There was no mercy to be had, he was just overwhelmed. He cried out trying to say how he was on the edge, he only moaned as the lackluster orgasm made him shake around Makoa’s shoulders. He had no strength to even lift his head. He was relieved to get to the number he’d promised, maybe now Makoa would let him start returning the favor. He reached his hands down to his partners head, still between his thighs. 

“Mercy, I surrender, white flag” he moaned with a husky voice that was stuck with for the time being.

He’d tangled his fingers into Makoa’s hair. He pulled harshly, only making the mountain of a man gasp out loud. “C‘mon big guy I think you’re gonna kill me. hold on” he managed to get Makoa to look up at him. He was smiling like he was the very picture of pride. 

“Makoa… is this what you consider ‘boring’ sex?” He asked once the man lay next to him on the bed. “Cause if this is… I’m actually wondering if I’ll survive making you cum.” 

He laughed but not in a genuine way, Elliott looked over to make sure he wasn’t upset at his joke. Makoa just made eye contact and smiled, his eyes creased and his blush was growing by the second. “No, this is nothing like I’ve done. Not in a long time.” He looked away, timidly. Elliott couldn’t believe he was the same one who was just between his legs. It made Elliott’s heart do a backflip.  _ Who are you? _ He asked in his mind. He rolled over to get on top of the man. He took Makoa’s cock in his hand and slowly worked him back up to the hardness he had upon entering the apartment. Elliott leaned down to pepper kisses across his chest, his stomach, his hips. “I just want to make you scream.” He resolved out loud. He spit on the head of the cock and pumped it, his hand was much more patient than he was. He wanted to climb on top and feel this fill him. He stopped briefly to go find lube, hopefully at least vaguely warned Makoa as to his plan. 

He returned to find his partner gripping the sheets in anticipation. Makoa’s eyes were sort of clenched, and his cock was bobbing like he was barely holding back. He supposed he’d just barely caught Makoa touching himself, which did a number on his already pounding heart. Elliott stoked that burning feeling in his chest, he was gonna get the most beautiful sounds from the most beautiful man. When he returned, he kneeled next to Makoa, taking over his mouth with rushed kisses, and he began to finger himself open, hunched forward in a desperate arch. He gasped and moaned into the man’s mouth, carefully avoiding his own prostate. 

“Elliott, you sure?” Makoa’s voice was mildly panicked. Surely he was ready to get some action of his own by now, Elliott wondered. 

“Yes I want you~uu” Elliott gasped from his own fingers, “I’ve wanted you since you first started seeing me.” He bit the man’s tongue, possessed.

“Elliott…” Makoa finally, graciously threw his arms around the man beside him. He kissed back, he did everything he was apparently holding back from doing. Mainly, he took over fingering and teasing and stretching Elliott. There was lube enough, but Makoa’s thick fingers were a better prep than Elliott ever could have given himself. He had three in before Elliott screamed in heat and need, “Makoa Please!!! Let me ride you.” And that was the ticket. Makoa lowered his legs and layed perfectly still while Elliott straddled him fast and rough. Makoa helped his hips find the right angle, Elliott lined him up and sank back, slowly. 

He moaned a long continued noise until he was sure he was filled to the brim. He rocked and rode expertly on the length, words falling from his open lips, “Makoa fuck!! R-right there! Right f-fucking there!!” Makoa’s brow was tinged with sweat, he focused on Elliott’s face shift between an ecstatic smile and an open mouthed silent moan. 

“Look so handsome...” Makoa whispered, placing his hands on Elliott’s hips, helping him raise and lower on the length. 

“You’re one t-t-to talk” Elliott flirted back. He brought Makoa’s unused hand to his mouth, to tongue at the palm, to kiss his wrists, and to bite at his knuckles. Elliott always needed something happening with his mouth, apparently, and Makoa was happy to oblige. He gripped his jaw firm but not hurting, Elliott loved how his beard hair was being rustled just so. Makoa seemed to like it too, his eyes screwed closed and he helplessly humped into Elliott. 

Elliott began to near that precipice again tonight, he breathed out gasps of disbelief, and Makoa speared him so perfectly that he had no option but to cum again, spilling all over Makoa’s stomach. 

“Oh baby- you feel so good on me, coming all over~” Mako's encouraging dirty talk making its first appearance made Elliott whimper. Then Makoa started to lock up, his hands pressing Elliotts hips close as he went deep, as deep as he could. Makoa enthusiastically arched backwards, and Elliott felt his load far inside of himself. 

And Elliott did make him scream. But he didn’t scream  _ for _ Elliott. 

“Nik!!!! _Fuck_ , **Nik**!”

Elliott made a completely inelegant dismount, nearly scrambling for the edge of the bed. 

“Wh-what the fuck?” Elliott’s heart hardened more by the second. “Who the fuck is Nik!? I’m Elliott. Remember?” He fumed. He backed up and hit a bookshelf, sending small, insecure items tumbling towards the floor.

“No…” Makoa’s hands closed over his own face, he fell back defeated, “No no no I’m sor- I’m so sorry Elliott, of c-“ he swallowed a sob, “Of Course I know it’s you- I just- I-” Makoa tried to reason out loud he sat up bolt straight. “Elliott I’m sorry.” He said sternly, sincerely, and on the verge of tears

“What even was this?” Elliott wanted to scream more but he was more confused than furious right now. “What was all that ‘wanna make you feel good baby’ bullshit?” He waited for his answer 

“I…” Makoa drowned in the questions “I really did. Do.” He took a second to wipe at his eyes, “I wanted to prove I can make someone else feel good. I got it in my head that I couldn’t.” He admitted with a pain in his voice that brought tears to bite at Elliott’s eyes. 

“Is Nik…” Elliott didn’t want to finish that question, fortunately the man cut him off-

“Nik isn’t an ‘is’. Nik is a ‘was’. Past tense.” Makoa defended against that at least, “we’re over but I… I messed up.” He searched his hands for something to fix this, “I haven’t been with anyone since him I- thought you would be... I’m so-“

“I think you should go.” The bartender said, shaking throughout his entire body. He plucked a robe from the chair in the corner and furiously dragged it over his shoulders. 

“Elliot pl-please I’m not- it’s a mistake” 

His eyes narrowed and he turned his head away from the man still in his bed. “Yeah.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “it was.” 

He walked out of the room to the bathroom just to escape. He heard Gibraltar call his name, he’d never been this unsure in his tone, he was in pain, but Elliott had enough. Makes no sense for two drowning people to cling to each other. He hid out in his bathroom, cleaning himself off entirely, getting every piece of evidence off or out of himself. He cried, quietly, and angry, like he was in a hurry and didn’t have time for tears. 

When he found the courage to come back out, Gibraltar was thankfully and blessedly gone. All trace of him gone too. Except for a neat stack of cash on the dresser. 

_“Let’s just forget. I’m sorry.”_ Was all the note said. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry come beat the shit out of me on my Twitter @enesstimestwo if you’re 18+


End file.
